Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Ebony and Ivory ❯ Renewing an Abandoned Romance ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: If I owned Fruits Basket, I would be Natsuki Takaya. If I were Natsuki Takaya, I would be able to draw. I can't draw (*sniffle). Therefore, I do not own Fruits Basket.

 

AN: Just to reiterate, there is absolutely no yaoi or shonen-ai in this story. The fact that Yuki does some things that remind Saito-san of his wife (also a musician, and a gentle, quiet person) does not mean he's at all attracted to Yuki like that.

 

 

CHAPTER 3: Renewing an Abandoned Romance

 

Saito found himself paying much more attention than usual to his customers over the next few days. His mind kept going back to that strange, silent child. That child who had panicked at the thought of anyone finding out about his playing. Saito accused himself of acting like an old lady, obsessing over trifles, but there was little else to think about except his own problems—and he had been thinking about those for years.

 

What kind of child went into a music shop to play piano in secret? What kind of child lived in a forest, and refused to give his last name? Was he being abused? Saito felt a twinge of pity, though he thought it was best not to get involved. But isolated, in the middle of a forest like that… there had to be some reason for that. People didn't isolate themselves by accident—not in Japan at any rate. Even the way he talked had been strange. Feminine, almost, though not quite. But it was more than that. The boy had stammered, and halted, as though trying to come up with the right answer to whatever a question was. As though he were afraid he would get it wrong.

 

Finally, Saito decided to dismiss the child from his mind, after nearly a week and a half had passed with no sign of him. He was almost tempted to believe he had imagined him, except he doubted he could imagine someone that odd. All the same, the boy's playing had affected him strangely; or perhaps it had been the expression on his face. It seemed so familiar. He felt himself being drawn to the piano again, and at last, during a dry afternoon, he sat down to play. He felt a little awkward at first, as though he were renewing an abandoned romance. He wondered how the child had felt. Hadn't he said he hadn't played in a while? But with the boy it had been different, like finding a long lost friend.

Saito's confidence grew as he played, and so did his emotions, until he found after a while that there were tears in his eyes. He stopped to wipe them away, and started. The boy from before was standing about ten yards away, watching. Saito noticed for the first time that he had fascinating eyes. They were large and amethyst-colored.

 

“What do you want?” he asked sharply.

The boy backed away, saying nothing. He looked scared.

“Well?” Saito asked, trying to sound a bit gentler.

The boy's expression was strange, as though he had forgotten he could speak. At last, he looked at the floor. “I… I'm sorry. It was… so beautiful. I wanted to listen.”

 

He still looked scared, and Saito sighed. “Very well. Yuki-san, right? Here, you can play.” He stood up.

 

“Are… are you sure I can't listen to you for a few more minutes?”

 

“I don't play in front of people. And you had no right to listen to begin with, without my permission.”

 

Yuki's eyes misted. “Sorry,” he whispered.

 

The man sighed. “It's okay. You couldn't have known. Just… don't do it again, okay?”

 

Yuki nodded. “Yes.” He sat down at the abandoned piano and, with a few apprehensive glances at Saito, who was organizing the store, began to play. Then he stopped. “Will you… tell me when it's 4:30?” he asked hesitantly.

 

“Sure.”

 

Yuki smiled his thanks. Damn, he had a beautiful smile. Saito resisted the impulse to smile back, and went back to organizing, pretending not to listen to Yuki play. He wondered how old the boy was. Eleven, perhaps? Twelve? If he was forbidden to play the piano, who had given him lessons? And who had forbidden him? He had a lot of talent. It seemed that he could pick up any piece and work through it. Rare, for one so young.

 

At five minutes to 4:30, Saito stopped him. Yuki smiled a little, wistfully, as though he really would have liked to play longer. For a moment, Saito felt bad for stopping him five minutes early so he could ask questions, but decided it would have made no difference. The boy was insatiable.

 

“How old are you?”

 

Yuki picked up his jacket, and hesitated before answering. “Thirteen. Almost fourteen.”

 

“Who do you take lessons from?”

 

Yuki looked at him, confused. “Lessons?”

 

“You know,” the man prompted. “Who taught you to play like that?” The boy looked at him blankly. “You surely don't mean to say you taught yourself!”

 

He shrugged a little. “My cousin… taught me the notes. That was all I needed, ne?” The man stared, wide eyed and speechless. “Can I come again?” Yuki asked tentatively. “I… promise I won't listen without permission.”

 

A smile pulled at the corner of Saito's mouth. “If you'd like.”

 

“Thank you, Tencho-san.” Yuki gave him another beautiful smile, and left.

 

 

Yuki did not come often at first, but he seemed to gain confidence as time went on, so that he was coming nearly twice a week. He never spoke to Saito, but he began to smile at him. Saito felt relaxed in his presence. He had never met anyone like him. It had ceased to bother him that Yuki never bought anything. He had come to the (rather obvious) conclusion that Yuki couldn't buy anything, because then people would realize he was playing. And if he really was forbidden, he probably didn't have a piano at home. A pity, that.

 

Winter came, and Yuki began to come more often. He mentioned that he couldn't work in his garden because of the snow, so he came here. Apparently, he always said he was at the library. Saito hoped he wouldn't get caught. It would be a pity to lose him.

 

 

One winter day, Yuki came in with a box. He went shyly to the counter. Saito, curious, went over. “May I help you?”

 

Yuki blushed a little, or perhaps it was windburn. “Tencho-san…I… I brought you some hot chocolate and… and donuts… I don't know if you like them… but I wanted to thank you.”

 

Saito was touched, and smiled one of his rare smiles. “Thank you, Yuki-san. Why don't we eat them together?”

 

“Oh… I…”

 

“I insist.”

 

Yuki quietly smiled. “Okay.”

 

Saito got out cups, and poured the hot cider into each of them. Then he set out the donuts. “I wish you would stop calling me Tencho,” he said. “My name is Saito Kanto.”

 

“S… Saito-san?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Thank you. For everything. I… I never had a place where it was okay to play before.”

 

“How long have you been playing?”

 

“Since I was eight. But I didn't play for two years until I started coming here.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“It was forbidden.”

 

“By whom?”

 

Yuki didn't reply.

 

“What about before then?”

 

“It was forbidden then too, but I hadn't gotten caught.”

 

“Does anyone else know you play?”

 

“I don't think so. One of my cousins taught me the notes back when I was eight, but I haven't talked to him about it since. He probably forgot about it.”

 

“Is this the cousin you live with?”

 

“No, the one who taught me was a year younger than me. He didn't really understand it, so he just gave me his papers and told me where the notes were on the piano.”

 

“And that's all anyone ever taught you?”

 

Yuki looked at him curiously. “That's all I needed to know.”

 

“Well, there are styles, and different systems of learning.”

 

Yuki lowered his eyes. “I know.” He sighed. “I'd like a teacher. But how could I possibly get a teacher without… being found out?”

 

“Perhaps your cousin could help.”

 

Yuki shook his head. “It's better if he just forgot about it. Besides, he can't do anything either.”

 

Saito paused. “Yuki, who is it that forbids you? Your parents?”

 

Yuki said nothing.

 

“You're very good, you know.”

 

Yuki laughed a little, a surprisingly musical sound. “Don't be silly.”

 

“I'm serious. Not one in a thousand thirteen-year-olds can pick up a piece and play it.”

 

“Fourteen. Just last week.”

 

“Oh. Happy birthday.”

 

“Thanks. Anyway… I'm not good at all compared to you.”

 

“You've only heard me play once.”

 

“Yes, but you weren't even using music.” He looked at Saito with his amethyst eyes. “Did you memorize it? Or write it?”

 

“I wrote it. A long time ago.”

 

“For who?”

 

Saito frowned. “Why does it have to be for someone?”

 

Yuki looked suddenly uncertain, even nervous. “I don't know. It just… sounded like it was.”

 

Saito sighed, considering. “I wrote it for my wife,” he said at last.

 

Yuki smiled. “You're married?”

 

“Widowed.”

 

“Oh. I'm sorry.” He paused. “Is that why you were crying?” Saito glared at him sharply, and Yuki shrunk away. “I'm… I'm sorry.”

 

Saito sighed. Yuki had meant it kindly. “It's okay.” Yuki laid his hand on Saito's. The way she used to. Saito smiled a little. He gave Yuki's hand a squeeze. “You're a good kid.” He let go and looked away for a moment. “You… remind me of her in some ways. She used to get that look on her face when she played… like the rest of the world didn't exist or matter, and she could make all things right with her music.”

 

“How did she…”

 

“Pregnancy complications.”

 

“Oh. Then… the baby too?” His eyes shone a little brighter, as though moist. “You loved each other a lot, didn't you?”

 

“I still love her,” Saito replied. “Love doesn't end with death.”

 

Yuki nodded, and looked away. Tears brimmed on his lashes, and he swallowed. This boy, whom Saito barely knew… why was he crying for Saito?

 

“Have you also lost someone, Yuki-san?”

 

Yuki blinked a few times. “I never had anyone,” he said softly. His lips trembled and he pressed them together. Then he walked over to the piano and began to play. It was simple, but it was soft, and sweet, and sad. A song of longing. A wish. Then he stopped. Saito came over and sat beside him. Yuki spoke quietly. “To have someone to love, and to love you, and then to lose her… it must hurt.” He fell silent at the last part. Saito wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Yuki stiffened, and looked at him in surprise, but then slowly relaxed.

 

It did hurt, Saito thought. But not as much as it would hurt to never have had anyone. Yuki seemed desperate for someone to care about him. Saito wondered why he had never noticed. Presently, he looked out the window. “It's getting dark,” he said at last, quietly and somewhat reluctantly

 

Yuki sighed. “It gets dark so early this time of year.” He pulled away and stood. “I should probably go home.”

 

“I'll walk with you.”

 

They walked together, amidst flurries of snow. Flakes landed on Yuki's hair, making it look paler.

 

“Are you cold?”

 

“No. I like the cold.”

 

Saito paused. “Have you ever been ice-skating?”

 

“No.”

 

“Would you like to go?”

 

Yuki smiled a little, shyly. “I don't know.”

 

“I could take you. As a belated birthday present, say.”

 

“Um… I don't know. I'd have to find a definite time. Right now I come whenever I can slip away and Shigure doesn't wonder.”

 

“Could you come on Friday or Saturday?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“Would you like to?”

 

Yuki paused. Then he smiled again. “Okay.”

 

“Hope to see you.”

 

“Thank you, Saito-san.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

They had reached the forest, and Saito watched as Yuki disappeared.